IPFS
CONNECTING THE DOTS
Frosty Wooldridge
More About: Politics: General ActivismChristmas in Antarctica: a moment frozen in time
With
such tragedy of the Newtown, CT event, I cannot begin to give enough love,
care, concern and empathy to all those families suffering from the loss of
loved ones. Just for a moment, let us take a deep breath, gather our
hearts and send everyone in Newtown our prayers, our love and our hopes
for a better tomorrow.
So,
this Christmas, I turn my quill to a happy story about the endless joy and
amazing experiences that await all of us wherever we may roam on this
planet. From “Bikes in bloom” to “A moment frozen in time”, let us
rejoice life and all its possibilities.
During
my bicycle travels of 125,000 miles across six continents, I have encountered
amazing and strange creatures in the Amazon jungle, Australian Outback, Tibetan
plateau, Alaskan wilderness, Himalayan Mountains and the Arctic.
When
a family of monkeys screamed at me from the rainforest canopy in Brazil, I
pressed on the pedals a little faster. In Australia, I cranked alongside
an emu, a flightless bird akin to an ostrich, who had befriended me in the
searing heat of the Outback. Some animals startled me like the frilled
lizard that flashed his “frill” at me one morning when I poked my head out of
the tent in the Northern Territory of Australia. If you remember that
creature that “frilled” the guy who stole the test tubes filled with dinosaur
eggs in the movie “Jurassic Park”, you might get an idea of the shock
value. That lizard scared the daylights out of me.
One
morning in Alaska on the Russian River of the Kenai Peninsula, I awoke to a
grizzly bear, not three feet away, looking at me through my mosquito
netting. By sheer luck, he didn’t eat me. In Norway, 700 kilometers
north of the Arctic Circle, I listened to the cuckoo bird serenade me all night
long with, “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo….”
But
nothing beats the amazing moment when I rode my bicycle in Antarctica to meet
the most unlikely creature on the planet.
For
a six month period of time, I lived, worked, camped and bicycled on “The Ice
Continent.” Of all the creatures that I have met in my world travels,
this meeting may be the most profound moment in my life on two wheels. The
story of a moment frozen in time:
In the morning, a whiteout howled across
McMurdo Station, Antarctica with 125 mile per hour winds and minus 80 degree
temperatures. I had been confined to my barracks for two days as a
“Condition One” storm worked its way over the ice-pack before me.
By late evening, the weather turned placid
but a biting minus 20 degree temperature kept most people inside. I,
however, bundled into my cold weather gear—insulated boots, heavy mittens, four
Thermax layers, fleece, three hats, face protection and ski goggles. I
headed out the door to ride my bicycle over the frozen road to the ice runway
where the supply planes landed each week to provide food for the people working
at the research station.
Yes, we enjoyed a fleet of bicycles at
McMurdo during my stay in Antarctica. Over the radio, Mac Ops reported
some Emperor penguins on the ice. I had to see them no matter what the
cold. I jumped on my bike looking like an overstuffed teddy bear wearing
cold weather gear. My breath vaporized as I rode toward the ice-covered
ocean. My lungs stung with each inhalation of polar cold. About a
mile around the cove, the setting sun glinted off the roof of Robert Falcon
Scott's Discovery Hut. He had died 100 years ago on his last attempt to
reach the South Pole. The hut had stood on the point of McMurdo Sound
since 1902. It gave mute testimony to the courage those men displayed in
their polar adventures. When Scott neared death on his run to the South
Pole, he shouted, “Great God! This is an awful place.”
Nonetheless, I rode along a path that led
toward the pack-ice in the sound. It's hard to describe pack-ice, but
it's jumbled, broken ice chards being heaved and smashed into multiple
shapes—triangles, domes, squares, tubulars, and wedges—like an Erector Set gone
crazy. However, near the shore, it was reasonably smooth with a thin
veneer of snow from the blizzard.
Above me, a golden-purple sky glowed
brazenly in its final glory into the crevasses of the Royal Society Range
across the sound. For once, a rare quiet softened the bitter edge of the
crystal white desert before me. One of the glaciers, more than ten miles
across at its terminus radiated liquid gold from the setting sun.
Pedaling through some shallow snow drifts, I got stuck so I pulled my bike
through and gained the edge of the ice. Even with polar weather gear
protecting my body, the numbing cold crept through the air, as if it were
trying to find a way into my being.
The bike frame creaked at the cold and the
tires made a popping sound on the ice I pedaled over. The big boots
made it hard to keep on the pedals. But I persevered and kept moving
forward. About six miles onto the ice, I looked through the sunlight and
saw four black figures approaching. I shaded my eyes with my gloved
hand. They drew closer, their bodies back-lit by the sun on the
horizon. A family of Emperor penguins waddled toward me. I
dismounted from my bike. From our survival classes, I learned to
sit down so as not to frighten them. By appearing smaller than them, they
might find me interesting.
Slowly, I lowered myself into the snow,
cross-legged, like an Indian chief. Minute by minute, they waddled
closer—straight toward me. Three big birds, about 80 pounds each kept
moving dead-on in my direction. The smallest followed behind them.
Another minute passed. They waddled to
within 30 feet of me. The lead Emperor carried himself like a king.
His silky black head-color swept down the back of his body and through his
tail. A bright crayon yellow/orange streaked along his beak like a Nike
logo. Under his cheek, soft aspirin-white feathers poured downward,
glistening in lanolin. His wings were black on the outside and mixed with
black/white on the front. He stood 40 inches tall and his enormous
three-toed feet featured a gray reptilian roughness with blunted talons
sticking out. He rolled his head, looking at me in a cockeyed fashion, as
if I was the strangest creature he'd ever seen.
I don't know what made me do it, but I
slipped my right hand out of the glove and moved it toward him—slowly.
The rest of the penguins moved closer. The big guy stuck his beak across
the palm of my hand and twisted his head, as if to scratch himself against my
skin. I felt glossy feathers against my hand. He uttered a muffled
“coo.” The rest of the penguins cooed. Their mucus membranes slid
like liquid soap over their eves every few seconds. I stared back,
wanting to say something to them, but realized I could not speak their language.
However, at that moment, we shared a consciousness of living.
My frozen breath vapors hung in the air
briefly before descending as crystals toward the ground. I battled to
keep from bursting with excitement. Within seconds, one of the other penguins
pecked my new friend on the rump. He drew back. With that, he
turned and waddled away. Following the elders, the little one gave one
last look at me, as if be too wanted to scratch my hand, but was afraid, and
turned with his friends. As they retreated, their wings flailed away from
their bodies like children trying to catch the wind in their arms. The
baby Emperor was last to go.
My hand turned numb so I stuck it back into
the glove. As I sat there, I remembered the day when a hummingbird landed
on my finger at my feeder on the back deck of my house in the Rocky
Mountains—and I remembered the sheer delicacy nature shared with me that warm
spring day. There, in that frozen wasteland beyond the borders of my
imagination where humanity does not belong, Mother Nature touched me again with
her pulsing heart and living warmth. I only hope my species learns as
much respect for our fellow travelers as they show toward us.
I stood up, tightened the hood on my coat
and looked for the penguins. They were gone. Only the pack-ice
rumbled toward the horizon. I turned to my bike. It’s hard to
believe that two rubber tires laced together with spokes and rims—and attached
to a metal frame could carry me from the Amazon Jungle, to Death Valley and on
to where the bolt goes into the bottom of the globe. That simple machine
lying in the frozen snow had taken me to far flung places on this planet and it
had allowed me magical moments beyond description. That moment with the
penguins probably was the best it had ever done by me. I remounted my
bike and turned toward the barracks.
The ride back didn't seem so cold.
Merry Christmas dear friends across America,
Canada, Europe, Australia and the world.
Spirit of Adventure
Emerson said, “God
laughs in flowers.” On a bicycle journey across America, you pedal
through, along and past billions of flowers of every color, shape and
description. God’s laughter speaks to your visual senses. If you hop off
your bike, you may enjoy glorious fragrances given off by flowers. Poets
say that flowers gave flight to butterflies. Both delight your
life. As you grow older, giving a rose to your loved one means, “I love
you.” Just for a moment, on your journey, you pedal through Milford, Ohio
when you ride up on a bicycle at the edge of town exploding with flowers.
A plaque reads, “Bikes in Bloom.” You take a shot. You remount your
bike to travel down Main Street, and to your delight, you instantly fall in
love with dozens of bicycles blooming with flowers in front of every
storefront. You smile, you laugh, you delight in the glorious beauty of
bikes blooming with all the colors of the rainbow. You mutter to
yourself, “Gosh, life doesn’t get any better than this.” Yes, you laugh
with the flowers.©
2012 Frosty Wooldridge
Bikes in Bloom in Milford, Ohio where every
storefront offers an amazing bicycle blooming with flowers. This annual
event attracts visitors worldwide. I am trying to make it a national event in
every town in America. Contact me for details: frostyw@juno.com
If you are
interested in sharing these unique “Spirit of Adventure” greeting cards with
picture on the front and vignette quote about adventure on the back, you may
send a check made out to Frosty Wooldridge, POB 16072,
Golden, CO 80402. You may order a
mixed bag with all adventure pictures with specific vignettes written about the
pictures or a single theme card of your choice.
Pack
of 10 is $18.00 including postage and handling. Pack of 20 is $36.00
including postage and handling. Pack of 40 is $63.00. Specify if you want
a variety or single theme card. State which theme, i.e., backpacking, skiing,
mountain climbing. Your friends will love these unique adventure greeting
cards. Your questions answered: frostyw@juno.com
They
cover para-sailing, canoeing, skiing, rafting, backpacking, mountain climbing,
winter mountaineering skiing, bicycling, rock climbing, camping, para-glicing
and much more. Each card delights the eye and inspires the spirit. They
can be used for “Thank you” ; “Inspiration” ; “Sympathy” ; “Invitation” ; “Friendship”
and just plain, “Hello”. Order today!
Frosty
Wooldridge, 6 continent world bicycle traveler,
author of--How to Live a Life of Adventure:
The
Art of Exploring the World www.HowToLiveALifeOfAdventure.com
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